freshman year: the lead up

i’m sitting in my basement, which is my pseudo-bedroom for the next two-ish weeks, wondering how on earth i’m supposed to pack my life away. i’ve always agreed with the sentiment that so many people are overly melodramatic about moving out for college—it’s not the utter and complete end all be all, it’s just a new beginning. i guess when i’m experiencing it myself, though, i just wake up to the same unsavory taste in my mouth, and i fear it’s something i won’t be able to shake for a long while.

college is a short hour away from home, and i’ve never been one to be homesick. i’ve itched to get out of my town for a while and just start over somewhere more fitting to me. plus, i’m no stranger to moving; my current hometown is the first place i stayed at for more than around a year.

i’ve been to so many places and lived so many different childhoods, but this weird world-is-ending vibe that i’m looped into is seriously deteriorating. i mean, how on earth am i supposed to write any good prose if all i’m thinking about is how mopey and lethargic i am?

it’s nothing new; i’m overthinking. i always do when major change is in the path i’m taking, but i guess i just wish i could be the person i’m pretending to be. be the girl who is so excited for college, the one whose only thoughts are getting out of their tiny and insignificant town. and i guess a part of me is just that, but a part of me is melancholy. nostalgic. “normal.”

i guess i’ll have to be normal: i’ll have to deal with growing pains and adjustments; i’ll have to deal with class registration issues (actually, i’m already dealing with those; the word waitlist makes my brain rot); i’ll have to deal with weird girls and bad professors; and i’ll have to deal with missing a life i took for granted. and i guess that’s okay. right?  it’s just the same old cycle. i’m nothing special in that sense, because i know every other freshman is probably feeling the same way.